


The University of Prometheus

by ChameleonSerket



Category: Alien Series, Prometheus (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 04:26:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10869093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChameleonSerket/pseuds/ChameleonSerket
Summary: You: Hey, why are you writing a long form AU about a 2012 movie in 2017 featuring two characters who lasted, at max, 20 minutes?Me: Scrunch made me it's not my fault





	The University of Prometheus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scrunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrunch/gifts).



> You know that #relatablefeel when you leave academia because it sucks and then you get kind of nostalgic and at the same time watch an old movie for the first time and start really #feelingit because most of the characters are scientists? 
> 
> anyway.

_Dr Fifield_

_I’m not sure if you remember me- Dr Rafe Milburn, Biology. We were both at those stupid “Compulsory 101 General Papers” conferences last year. I’m pretty sure we said hello at one point when we both got thrown out of one of the meetings for swearing at the dean?_

_Anyway, I’ve noticed that there are Geology majors in my Bio101 class this year and a lot of them seem to be struggling with the material. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to have a look at your material so I can better fill in the knowledge gaps if I have to rewrite this whole damn module for next year to satisfy His Eternal Deaniness._

_I would also like to know how my students are doing in your Geol101 class. I’ve noticed some more stressed faces than I usually see in the fourth week of the first semester, especially amongst my third year students! I might be able to help them better if I know the material you are covering._

_Yours,_

_Dr Milburn._

 

Rafe hit send and rolled away from his cluttered desk with a sigh. Damn Dean Weyland! All he ever wanted was a quiet lab and a way to foster a love for biology in the next generation. Not this. Not… _politics_. He chewed a pen idly. Well, it could be worse. At least he still had a job. For now.

Maybe he should tidy his office. Charitably, it was a dump. His students often joked the room was a petri dish and he was the organism being tested. The whole university often joked that all the biologists were ultimately conducting experiments on themselves to see what human could survive in the most hostile environment… and as rumour had it, Rafe was winning. If that Dr Fifield decided to visit it wouldn’t do to confirm that little stereotype. He huffed. Well, it’s not like he could get rid of the plants. Or the books, strewn half open across his desk and floor. That’s a system. But maybe he could do something about the rubbish bin, overflowing with chip packets and empty energy drink cans. And he guessed he could flick a cloth around, get rid of some of the dust. Shouldn’t take long, but it’s not like he had any more lessons to teach today anyway.

Two hours later, and Rafe was stripped down to his singlet, sweating, panting and eternally grateful that he didn’t have any more appointment.  His room was gleaming in the golden afternoon light. The plants, freshly watered and finally cleared of dust, artfully lined his bookshelves and windowsill. His desk was clear but for his polished computer, a neat stack of essays to mark, an unchewed pen, and a single orchid for company. He’d pulled out a throw from his newly- organised and labelled closet and used it to cover the battered, but just- fluffed, couch. The little coffee table, so recently covered with empty mugs, dog eared books and trash was had been dragged out from the wall and was sitting happily by the sofa with a jug of water and some glasses on a tray. He’d even nicked a vacuum from the cleaner’s cupboard and quickly hoovered. Nice.

Just as he stood back to admire his hard work, his computer pinged with a new email. Urgh. Probably another “friendly reminder” from the Dean- some new rule, really, designed specifically to fuck with Rafe’s mind. What was it this time? Mandatory ties? Office hours until damn midnight? Fucking… office inspections for cleanliness- well. Maybe that one wouldn’t be too bad anymore. He flopped down onto his adjusted and finally ergonomic chair and opened up his emails.

Oh! A reply from Dr Fifield! Fantastic. Hopefully this will all be sorted soon.

 

_Dear Dr Fucker_

_Are you suggesting my students are dumb? What an arsehole. Don’t ever speak to me or my children again._

_Biology can suck my hole._

_Butterfly kisses,_

_Sean_

 

What the… fuck? That was uncalled for. Was Fifield really this much of a prick? Rafe stared opened mouthed at the offending email for a full minute before hearing another ping. From Fifield. He clicked on it cautiously.

 

_Hey mate._

_Sorry. That was a bad joke. That hack Shaw has been snipping at me all day about my kids in her History class and I’m ready to blow._

_Sure I know you- tall guy, clear glasses right? Huge nerd? I remember you getting chucked out for saying fuck, nice work my man. We should have hung out after that instead of storming off. Brothers in arms!_

_I’m free now so come on over to my cell block and I guess we’ll “facilitate open learning and communication between departments”, just like the Dean wanted. Shit, we’re kowtowing to his regime after all!_

_Kettles on, see you in a few._

_Sean_

 

What? Rafe rubbed the back of his neck and looked around his sparkling room sheepishly. All that work… oh well. He groaned his way out of his chair and slung his hoodie and jacket back on before picking up his (newly organised) satchel and trotting outside.

The Earth Sciences building was fairly new- purpose built, packed with the latest equipment and the pride of the sciences department so of course it looked like an ugly brutalist apartment block straight out of Mother Russia. Okay so, to be fair, the Biology building also looked like that. Pretty much exactly the same, in fact, apart from all the grunge growing on it. Rafe peered up at the block. Was this…? Yeah. This building was a carbon copy of his. Lazy god damn university cutting corners everywhere. Incredible. Rafe walked inside to a familiar lobby and looked up Dr Fifield on a familiar map. Lucky sod even got a ground floor office. He strolled down the hall, barely even noticing himself nervously fuss at his clothes, brushing off invisible dust, straightening his glasses, clearing his throat. The door to Dr Fifield’s office was open a crack, but he still knocked politely and waited for a response.

“Yeah, c’mon in luv, doors open.”

“Uh, hey.” He slinked round the door. “Milburn, Biology. Nice to meet you.”

Rafe had often heard that if you wanted to find the Geologist in the room, just look for the worst dressed individual. Khakis, socks with sandals, Hawaiian shirts- this is what normal geologists wore. Dr Fifield was very obviously no normal geologist. He _lounged_ back on his desk chair, feet on the desk, in black skinny jeans and a tight band tee, uncrossing his heeled boots carelessly, unfolding himself, running his left hand through his bright red mohawk as he stuck out his right for a shake.

“Fifield, Geology,” he laughed “but you can call me Sean. Am I stuck calling you Dr Milburn then mate?”

“Oh! Uh, n-no of course not! It’s uh, Rafe.” He accepted the handshake awkwardly, bumping his fingers into Dr Fifield’s- Sean’s- palm for an awful moment.

Sean raised an eyebrow. “Alright, Rafe. Sit down, make yourself comfortable. Tea? Coffee?”

“Coffee, please. Thanks.”

Rafe settled himself gingerly on the sofa and looked around. This room- the bones were the same as his, same built in bookcase, same desk, even a similar tired old couch- but it was like a little paradise in a concrete cell. There was a mini fridge built into the bookcase. There was a space heater under the seat, gently warming Rafe’s toes. The kettle sung merrily away on the desk and Sean seemed to have a whole drawer dedicated to teas and coffees. The opposite wall was covered floor to ceiling with what looked like a custom curiosities cabinet, packed full of neatly shelved and labelled rocks of all different colours. And in a large pot next to the window…

“Wait, are you growing weed in your office?”

“Ah, I forgot to put Mary Jane away huh?” Sean grinned proudly, “Ain’t she a beaut? Closest thing I have to a lover, that plant.”

“Whu- uh- what do you mean ‘put her away?’”

“Oh, I’ve turned that useless little closet into a grow room. Just big enough for my lady to slide into if we’re expecting visitors. She’s even got wheels on her pot, see?” Sean darted away from the business of making drinks for a moment to roll the plant smoothly into the closet and shut the door. “There! Now I’m not growing weed in my office!” he beamed.

Rafe grinned back despite himself. “I see.”

“Sugar? Milk?”

“Ah, yes, both please.”

Sean hummed tunelessly as he finished the coffees and set them down on the coffee table, plopping himself down beside Rafe on the couch.

“So you’re being too hard on my students then huh?”

“Well, to be honest your students are performing the best out of all of the general paper victims. But you’re the only one apart from me who voted no the whole way through, so,”

“So you thought you’d get the easiest problem sorted first huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I hear you man. You brought your syllabus?”

Rafe pulled it triumphantly from his satchel. “Hope you’re ready to spend an exciting afternoon looking at slides of mitochondria!”

“Buddy there’s nothing I’d rather do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Milburns' office is based on every single professors office I've ever been in and Fifields' is based on my unrealistic expectations for every single professors office before I open the door for the first time.


End file.
